


Feels Like Home

by umthisisawkward



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Dark, Gen, I just watched Midsommar and this happened, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jacob's slightly less, No Smut, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rated to be Safe, The Seeds are pretty evil in this, Whole lot of Angst, this is really sad i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22788205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umthisisawkward/pseuds/umthisisawkward
Summary: A feast and celebration near the river where she was just baptized and welcomed into the Project should be a joyous occasion, shouldn't it? Well, then why do the tears keep coming?  What is she missing?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Feels Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, look - this story is pretty dark and sad, but I watched Midsommar a little while ago and cannot stop thinking about it and this is what came to mind.

The way he looks at her feels as though it is important - something that she should pay attention to and a moment she should keep in her head for the rest of her life. As if the cosmos had all lined up and brought her to him on a bed of stars and he would protect her through every horror she had seen. Like she is home. For the first time in her life, she is home. 

His long fingers reach out and brush away the wet hair from her face as she keeps her eyes fixed on his as best as she can. The entire world had felt so heavy when she went under the water, but the moment she came back to the surface, it is as if the entirety of that burden is lifted from her shoulders. No more fear rests inside her belly, no more pain or anguish. Well, the pain is still there. She’s not exactly sure why it’s there, or what purpose it serves, but she knows it’s real and will take time to fade. She accepts that.

“My child,” he whispers. 

“Father.”

“Welcome to Eden’s Gate.”

The others, gathered along the shore, applaud and cheer as the Father himself wraps an arm around her waist to help her make her way back to them. Dizzy and delirious, she wonders what she was so nervous about before all of this. Arms welcome her to her new family, and as she is passed from person to person, each one locking her in an embrace and telling her how welcome she is, Sarah cannot find her footing but somehow stays upright. As if her feet are guiding her on their own.

The last pair of arms that find her are rough and scarred and when she looks up, she is met with eyes so blue they startle her. They match the Father’s eyes, just as they match the Baptist’s eyes, and she knows whose arms cradle her as she takes in his fiery red hair and beard. 

“Welcome, Sarah.” 

His voice is jagged and rough, almost like gravel crunching under a tire. Arms circle her and pull her to his towering frame, and she lets out a sigh at the way they warm her through her soaking wet clothes. Her feet forget their inherent clumsiness for a moment but as those eyes find hers again, they remember. She stumbles forward though she tries to move backwards, as if her body will not cooperate with her brain, and he steadies her on her feet with a smile on his lips. Something she has seen only once before, but she can’t remember when. 

A celebration follows later, near the river from which she had emerged a happier woman. They eat a modest feast and toast sparkling grape juice and laugh and dance. _Dance_. Sarah watches the rest of the followers dance from her spot at the long table but she cannot even begin to think about lifting her arms or moving her legs. It’s like the entire air hums with energy and peace, alive like a wire but softer, gentler. Something she cannot explain. It’s as though she could feel the Earth rotating slowly in its suspended place in space, and she is moving along with it. Safe. _Home_. 

Faith places a flower crown on top of her head and wipes away the tears that have gathered on her cheeks. Sarah wonders where those came from, she didn’t even know she had been crying. Why is she crying? Is this not a celebration? Something to be thankful and happy for? The tears must be from joy, from relief that the fight has concluded and she is safe now, and the world will not end as Joseph had said it would but it will thrive and grow and learn. Learn from her example. Learn from what happened in Hope County. 

The sickly sweet smell of Bliss wafts from the flowers around her head into her nose and she inhales it, almost needy. _Desperate_. To make all of this stay as light as it feels. There is happiness, joy, dancing, laughter. Peace. Quiet. Calm. 

Nothing could ever take her from this place. This is where she belongs, where she is meant to spend the rest of her days. Her new family rejoiced and welcomed her, despite all the harm she has caused. Despite the blood that still taints her hands - even though the baptism was supposed to cleanse her of her sins. The blood is still there and bile rises up in Sarah’s throat for a moment before she swallows it back down and tries to smile.

 _Desperation_. 

She wants to feel clean but she cannot stop thinking about the blood on her hands. So much blood. So much violence. All because of her. Why, though? What had happened to cause it? She cannot even remember if she wanted to. It’s as though there is only the ‘here’ and ‘now’, no such thing as the ‘then’ and ‘past.’ As if whatever brought her here is not real at all, not compared to the way that joy and laughter seems to flow through her bloodstream. Her entire body is alive, is present, awake now out of the darkness. 

The big hand on hers causes her to look up. Jacob. His eyes nearly drowning her and causing her breath to catch in her throat. What can she possibly feel desperate about, sad about, while he is there with her? 

“Are you all right?”

She nods and the motion is slower than it feels. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“You’re crying.”

“I...don’t know why...”

“I’ve heard dancing helps,” John’s voice startles Sarah and she turns to see him standing before her with his hand extended. 

She does not know why but she glances at Jacob, as if silently asking for permission. The older soldier wears a smile on his lips that she doesn’t understand as he nods. She stands and makes her way around the large table before John sweeps her up into his arms and leads her around all the others, as if they are nothing but air and he is the wind. They move for them, and Sarah isn’t sure which way is which after John spins her around and pulls her back into his arms. She catches Jacob’s eye as he watches the two of them with a happy smile, and for some reason she feels as though he should be jealous. _Why?_

“John,” she whispers. He doesn’t hear her over the music, the laughter, the dancing. “John.” 

He still doesn’t hear her and she is certain if she raises her voice that the entire group will stop and stare at her for _yelling_ at one of their Heralds. She tries again and again but her voice is so soft, so meek, so pathetic-sounding as though she cannot summon enough oxygen into her lungs. But what is causing it? Why is she so afraid to speak louder, assert her presence? Why is she afraid _at all_?

“John,” she says, voice shaking and tears clouding her already cloudy vision. 

He hears her this time. “Yes, my dear?”

“Where are we?”

“Holland Valley.”

“Why...why are we...why are we dancing?”

He smiles at her like she’s a toddler asking an obvious, silly question. The look would normally irritate her, but this time it frightens her. Why is she so afraid? She is happy, everyone around her is happy so why isn’t she? What’s going on below all this joy and excitement? It’s as though she can smell something rotten under the scent of the Bliss flowers. Something rotten and disturbing and horrifying. What is it, though? She cannot put her finger on it. 

“Sarah, it’s a celebration. Dancing always happens at celebrations.”

A celebration of _what_ , though? Just her atonement and baptism? Why is that a cause for such a celebration when every single member of the Project went through it, too? Did they do this for every single one of them? No. So what makes her special? She tries to remember what took place before the baptism, before she confessed her sins aloud and John had tattooed ‘lust’ onto her wrist to accompany the ‘wrath’ written across her chest. Her brow furrows in concentration as she tries to think, tries to remember what she had done earlier, just moments before the atonement. 

She looks down at her arm to see the fresh tattoo, but what catches her eyes is her dress. It’s white, which she was aware of before, but it is more than just a dress, it’s a gown. It reminds her of a wedding gown. She glances back over at Jacob, who is dressed nicer than usual, too. A boutonniere is pinned to the lapel of the suit jacket he wears. 

The desperation comes back.

Her entire throat seems to close.

“Sarah,” John insists as he stops the movement and cups her face in his hands. “Sarah, breathe.”

She shakes her head and croaks out that she _can’t_.

“In and out, in and out.”

John’s eyes slide behind her and brighten as she feels a hand on her back. She turns to see Faith again, carrying a vial of something. Bliss. _Bliss_. She’s in the Bliss. That’s what this is. She’s trapped inside a world that she cannot control, not even for herself. She’s in their clutches and they can do whatever they want to her and…

“Sister, don’t worry. I know how heavy the world can feel,” Faith says as she wraps her arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

 _Sister_?

“Be careful, Faith.”

“I know,” Faith says with a smile, despite John’s venomous tone. “She just needs the world to dull a little. It can be so sharp and painful sometimes.”

Sarah winces as Faith uncorks the vial and places it under her nose. She tries not to breathe, to hold her breath so she can come out of this alive, she has to come out of this alive without anyone hurting her…

But she can’t hold her breath for long and soon the powder dances up her nose and the world grows fuzzier in her line of vision, duller, the way Faith had said it would. A peaceful calm washes over her and blankets her in a cloud of safety. John’s fingers stroke her cheek and she leans into the touch that feels like home. Heaven. _Home_. 

“Jacob,” John greets.

Sarah turns to see those blue eyes again, the ones that threaten to drown her in their beauty. Warmth floods her entire body as she looks up at the older man with a smile on her lips. He returns it and mutters something to John that she doesn’t exactly catch. His hands find her waist and before she understands what is happening, they are swaying to some sort of soft, acoustic song. The lyrics babble through her ears like a brook but she doesn’t catch the specific words or their meaning. Her eyes stay on Jacob’s as the entire dance floor moves away from them like the Red Sea had parted for Moses. The way she glides across it effortlessly makes her think she may be floating. She should not feel such grace, she knows, not while the Bliss is flowing through her veins at the rate that they’ve given it to her. 

“Sarah,” Jacob says, bringing her attention back to him and away from her thoughts. “Are you all right?”

Why does he keep asking her that? Why is he so focused on whether or not she’s alright when she _should_ be absolutely perfect? Is it her? Is she doing something wrong, something not in custom with what this celebration entails? Does she look sad? 

Suddenly aware of every muscle in her body, she tries to relax her face and place a smile on her lips that doesn’t sting like her mouth is on the ends of fish hooks, tugging it into the shape of a smile while she bleeds from the corners. No, that’s not the right look to have here, is it? Muscles in her face spasm as she tries to relax them, tries to paint her expression into something that would make sense here, that would make Jacob stop worrying about her. 

He places a hand on her cheek and it's then that she realizes they’re not dancing anymore. They’re not even on the dance floor. The music is far away now and they stand in the woods, her back against a tree as Jacob looks deeply into her eyes and Sarah isn’t sure what all of this means. 

“Sarah, do you know where you are?”

She shakes her head and Jacob sighs, his fingers soft in a way she never imagined he could be as he wipes more tears from her cheeks. Tears she doesn’t remember gathering in her eyes. What is going on?

“I told them to be careful with the amount they gave you.”

“Amount?”

“You’re on Bliss,” Jacob says. 

His eyes are dark with anger and disappointment, but Sarah doesn’t flinch. Without him even verbalizing it, she’s aware that the intense emotions the Soldier is feeling are not towards her but towards his own family. His eyes meet hers and the blue is not so suffocating now, it’s softer and gentler and she sighs as his hand finds her shoulder.

“What do you remember?”

“Dancing. Being underwater. The way I moved as if I was on air.”

“Shit,” he whispers. “Before that?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

She nods and Jacob rubs a hand down his face as if in frustration before he plants a kiss on her head and tells her to stay where she is, that he wants to talk with his brothers. He makes it very clear that she needs to remain right there, in that spot, back against the tree. There is no threat in his voice, it’s mostly filled with worry, as a parent would worry about a small child running off into the unfamiliar only to get lost in the abyss and never be seen again.

She does what he says, she waits. The longer he is gone, the more anxious she becomes. She presses her back up harder against the tree, hopeful that the pain will bring her some sense of clarity. Happiness and sorrow battle it out in her belly and she shifts from highs and lows in a way she’s never experienced before. One second she has a smile on her lips that finally feels natural and the next, she feels her entire body curving inwards - stomach towards spine - and she cannot see with the tears that cloud her eyes. 

When Jacob comes back, she is crying. Sobs rip themselves from her throat despite her desperate attempts to hold on to them. The pain and anguish in her stomach blossom and stem upward towards her brain. It feels like _grief_. Grief for what? She’s not sure and that scares her. Grief is specific, there is mourning involved with grief, but not sixteen yards away she can hear the soft music playing and the laughter wafting up to her in her seclusion and darkness.

“Sarah,” Jacob whispers as she falls into his sturdy arms.

“What’s happening?” she begs. 

“I don’t know. What do you feel?”

“Sadness and…” She doesn’t know how to verbalize it. 

“Like you’re in mourning?”

“ _Yes,_ ” she gasps. 

“Do you remember anything at all before the baptism?”

“I can only remember feeling unclean. Like no baptism would wash away what I’d done. But what _have_ I done?”

“You didn’t do anything, Sarah. You didn’t.”

“I did, I can feel it.”

“You blame yourself but you should blame us. We’re the ones who started this war. We’re the ones who found your friends.”

“My...friends?”

The word tastes unfamiliar on her tongue and suddenly Sarah remembers flashes of Nick and Kim, Grace, Mary May, Eli, Wheaty, Tammy...all of their faces float out in front of her as if they are spirits. Spirits? That doesn’t make any sense, does it? She gasps as Jacob pulls her close again and closes her eyes against the accusing looks that her friends’ faces shoot at her. What has she done? What has she done? 

“They told me you came to them on your own.”

“Who?”

“My brothers.”

Did she? When would she have come to them? She imagines it would have been a rough night, full of violence. She could only picture herself anointed in blood as she appeared on one of their doorsteps after everything and threw herself to the ground and begged forgiveness from them for everything she had done.

Only that memory doesn’t feel real. She frowns as she tries to recall what had _really_ happened to make her come to them. The Seeds were her enemies before all this. They were people she was afraid of and hated. She cannot recall what would have made her join them, side with them, abandon all hope for saving her friends and Hope County as a whole.

Hope County.

Hope.

She crumples to the forest floor with a wail as she remembers. Everything. She remembers the guns pointed at Kim and Nick’s faces, the way Wheaty’s hair was bloody and matted to the side of his head, the way Mary May shouted at her not to do it and how the butt of a gun had collided with her temple, causing her to crumple onto the floor in a puddle of blood, her face frozen in a look of panic and fear. She remembers weeping at the sight, remembers the cold and calculated way John ordered her body be taken away so as not to upset the Deputy. Sarah. The Deputy. Sarah. 

_Sarah, do you see what your violence has done?_

_You see it now, don’t you, Deputy?_

_Your friends will die, they will be offered to God if you do not come to us like you are meant to._

_Sarah, do you see?_

_Do you see, Sarah?_

Jacob’s arms wrap around her small frame as her screams pierce the night air. She can still hear the shouts of her friends as they are carted away, the way she knelt on the ground with her head bowed in front of Joseph and how he pet her hair as if she was a child, as if she was his child, as if she was his.

His.

Theirs.

 _Jacob’s_.

Jacob sounds broken as he weeps, too. His pain echoes hers in a way she doesn’t understand, and as she looks up to see his eyes she realizes that he did not know either. His brothers kept him in the dark the same way the Bliss kept her from feeling the grief that had sewn itself into the lining of her stomach and the chambers of her heart. The memories of gunshots echo in her ears as she remembers the screams from the friends she thought she was protecting. The way their blood baptized her bare feet and the way that her clothes grew soaked after Joseph made her stand behind him for each and every one. The weight of her arms feel heavy as if holding a shotgun as she remembers it all. Had it been her? Had she been the one to do this? 

Before she can register what’s happening, Faith’s smile floats into her sight and the young girl kneels at her side with hands reaching for her face. Lips press against hers and she tries to back away as another sensation takes over her, brings her back to Earth or farther away from it, she’s not exactly sure because it feels like both at the same time.

“It needed to be done, darling Sarah,” Faith says, petting her hair down. “No peace would come to us if you had not made your own sacrifice.”

 _Sacrifice_?

Sarah breathes.

Sarah breathes and inhales oxygen almost greedily as she tries to hold onto the horrors her brain had recalled just moments ago. She cannot forget them, she cannot forget the friends she took from this Earth. 

But as their faces slip away, back into the hidden corners of her mind, she smiles up at Faith. The feeling of fish hooks comes back but she ignores it as her sister wipes the tears from her cheeks again. 

“Thank you, sister.”

She is _home_. 

~


End file.
